


a place called home

by CapriciousCrab



Series: burden and blame [5]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Karen's POV, M/M, Self-Acceptance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:07:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21784933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapriciousCrab/pseuds/CapriciousCrab
Summary: Leaping forward she yanks open the door and stumbles outside, her feet carrying her swiftly down the cobbled path to where her son waits, his arms outstretched and a wide grin dimpling his cheeks.A fic about homecomings and acceptance
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Series: burden and blame [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1131218
Comments: 8
Kudos: 59





	a place called home

She's dabbing the sweat from her brow, blowing a tuft of curly brown hair from her eyes when she spots the man standing at her gate.

Preoccupied with the basket of laundry that needs ironing she's unsure of how long he's been there, his fists clenched tightly around the wooden pickets separating the house from the street. He looks nervous as he shifts uncomfortably, and something about his wide-eyed stare makes her move to the door to slide home the lock.

Karen watches as he turns his head to the left and when she follows his gaze she freezes in place and sucks in a sharp breath, letting it out with a disbelieving whisper.

"Daniel…"

Leaping forward she yanks open the door and stumbles outside, her feet carrying her swiftly down the cobbled path to where her son waits, his arms outstretched and a wide grin dimpling his cheeks.

"Mum!"

He laughs when she throws her arms around him in a tight hug, lifting her from her feet as he twirls her around in a happy circle. Karen swats at his shoulder until he sets her on her feet once more, then stands still as she places her hands on his cheeks.

She traces over the fine smile lines at the corners of his eyes with trembling fingertips as she takes in the sight of her Daniel, home once more after so long.

Karen smacks at him once more, her voice shaking with emotion. "Daniel James! Why didn't you send a letter? I would have had your room ready for you…"

Her voice trails off when Dan shifts slightly. She looks over his shoulder and meets the eyes of the man she's noticed from inside the house. Standing slightly behind Dan he shrinks beneath her gaze, dropping his eyes to the pavement as he shuffles his feet. 

"Mum, this is Phil," Dan says softly, turning to face the man he beckons closer his side. There's something in his voice she's never heard before, a tenderness that seems to soothe the man next to him.

Phil searches Dan's face and relaxes slightly at the reassurance he finds there before meeting her eyes tentatively. 

"Hello, Ms. Howell," he says softly, "it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

He extends his hand in greeting and the sight of his trembling fingers makes a pang of tenderness swell in Karen's chest. She takes his hand in hers and gives it a soft squeeze as she offers Phil a gentle smile.

"Phil, I'm so glad you've come home with Daniel."

His shy, uncertain smile tugs at her heart. He's a tall lad, nearly as tall as Daniel but with a delicacy to him that Dan never had. He looks fragile, as if the wrong word from her might shatter him into a million pieces and she feels the mother in her stir, longing to sweep him into a protective hug. 

"You boys must be hungry. Come into the house and I'll fix you up something to eat," Karen says. "And then maybe you can explain why you haven't written to your mum, hmm?"

Dan laughs sheepishly and rubs the back of his head as he glances at Phil from beneath his lashes. "It's a bit of a long story."

"I've got time," she says, patting Dan on the shoulder. 

*

They fold themselves into her dining room chairs while she makes them lunch; thickly sliced ham stacked between slices of freshly baked sourdough bread. The boys eat ravenously, and it pleases her to see the healthy flush on their cheeks as they lean back to sip the coffee she had brewed.

They talk throughout the meal; hushed voices and halting words painting a picture of everything they had gone through since Daniel’s last letter home. Her heart breaks at the knowledge of the fear and panic and pain they had experienced, and when she looks at her son and finds his worried gaze glued to the man seated at his side, she understands a little more.

Karen doesn’t ask any questions. That can wait until later when she can catch Dan alone. Right now she has two exhausted men to care for and rooms to prepare. Rising to her feet she brushes down her skirt and sends them a smile.

“You boys can clear the table and wash up. I have things to take care of before you drag yourselves upstairs.”

She waits for Phil to take his empty plate into the kitchen before beckoning Dan closer enough to speak quietly.

“I'm going to make up your room and the empty one next to it. No, don’t argue with me… hush, and listen,” she says sternly, cutting off Dan’s protest. “I don’t think your Phil would be comfortable with me knowing that the two of you share a room. Oh, he knows that I am aware of the nature of your relationship, but a vague knowledge is vastly different than having me confirm that I know that the two of you are lovers.”

“Mum!” Dan yelps, his scandalized face growing red. “Jesus Christ.”

“Language, Daniel,” she scolds playfully before laughing quietly. "Honestly, darling, I may be an old woman but I’m not a stupid woman.”

“You’re not old but please, can we not talk about this?” he pleads. “If Phil knew-“

“Hush,” she says again. “He needs his own room, Dan. A quiet, safe space of his own that he can retreat to when everything gets to be too much. He needs to heal, love.” 

Dan goes quiet for a moment as he thinks her words over. He sighs and gathers the remaining place settings from the table. “I know that you’re right, mum. I just- I just want him to be happy.”

Karen rests her head on his shoulder as she circles her arm around his waist, giving him a tight squeeze. “He will be. He just needs a little time.”

*

Sometimes she thinks that time will never come.

It’s been three months since the boys have come home and Karen is no closer to making Phil comfortable than she was the day that they arrived. Oh, he’s perfectly polite and respectful. But he watches her with careful, guarded eyes as he asks her for chores, eager to be helpful. 

She hadn’t understood it at first. He’d all but begged her for something to do; tending the gardens with delicate care and washing the whitewashed clapboard meticulously until it gleamed in the sunshine proudly. And while he didn’t shy away from her nearly as much as when he had first arrived, the warmth she had felt from their former correspondence was missing. 

Karen pulls those letters out now from her bedroom drawer, faded and wrinkled from repeated reading and strokes her finger over the neatly spaced letters etched onto the paper. She reads their story from the beginning, the way Dan writes about this man who had captivated him from the moment they had met. She smiles sometimes and tears up when the letters become a little darker, a bit harder to bear. But it’s not until she’s re-reading the letter Phil had sent her that everything suddenly becomes crystal clear.

  
  


_“... my own family couldn’t tolerate one such as me.”_

_“... not as useless as my father once proclaimed.”_

_“... shall take great pains to be worthy…”_

“Oh, darling boy,” she murmurs, eyes filling with tears. _Now_ she understands the fear that fills his eyes when he looks at her, the undertones of desperation when he asks if there is anything that needs doing. She rubs the tears from her eyes and blows out a shaky breath as she stands and straightens the hem of her nightgown. It’s late but she needs to think, and for that she needs tea.

She steps out into the hallway and closes the door behind her. Her head comes up at the sound of a strangled gasp, meeting Phil’s eyes as he stands frozen against Dan’s bedroom door. He pales before flushing violently, his hands coming together to twist nervously. He opens his mouth then bites his lip viciously without saying a word, his eyes screwing shut. He looks terrified and Karen feels her heart break a little at the sight.

“Hello, Phil. I was just on my way to the kitchen for a cup of tea… would you like to join me?” she asks quietly. She’s careful to keep her eyes on his when he opens them, hoping he can see the love and acceptance she so desperately wants him to feel.

“Oh! I, uh… um, isn’t it a bit late?” he stammers. He edges away from the door, and some of his fierce blush fades a bit when he realizes she takes no issue with him slipping from Dan’s bedroom in the middle of the night.

Karen laughs softly and hooks her arm through his, gently steering him away from hiding in his room and pulling him down the hall and into the kitchen. “It’s never too late for tea, Phil,” she teases, filling the kettle and setting on the stove. 

It takes a bit to heat and she wants to keep Phil close so she starts pulling out ingredients for pie, laughing at the confusion on his face. “What kind of pie do you like, love?”

Phil looks baffled by the question, his eyes drifting over to the small clock set on the fireplace mantle. He doesn’t mention the time again and slouches a bit in his chair. “Dan talked a lot about your pies. He loves your peach pie best.”

“Did he now? Well, wasn’t that sweet of him?” Karen says as she drags out her mixing bowl and spoons, rolling pin and pie pans. “But I want to know what _your_ favorite is.”

“Apple,” he says in a tiny voice. “The kind with the pretty tops and lots of cinnamon.” His eyes are closed as if reliving some memory, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Then apple pie it shall be. Come on then, you can be my assistant.” 

Karen pours them a cup of tea, and they get to pie-making. Setting Phil to peeling apples while she puts together the dough, she keeps the conversation light and easy while they work and rejoices as she watches Phil relax, tense muscles finally easing into a more natural posture. He’s rolling out the crust in smooth, steady strokes when she eases into the conversation they need to have.

“You’re doing such a fine job, Phil. Did you ever bake with your mother?”

“Oh! Oh, no,” he laughs a little nervously as he studies the flat disc of pie crust on the floured table. “We didn’t really get on like you and Dan do. My parents-,”

He closes his mouth abruptly and rolls a little more vigorously. She gives him a minute and refreshes his tea before taking the rolling pin from his hands. “That’s perfect, thank you, dear. Let’s turn it into the pan now.”

Karen pours the apple filling into the pan and waves Phil over to make the lattice top crust. “Is that why you left home and ended up out west?” she asks as she hands him neatly cut strips of pastry. “Because you didn’t get on with your parents?”

His hands are trembling now, and the sight of it fills her with a combination of fierce anger and maternal protectiveness. 

He shrugs desolately and avoids looking up from his task. “They couldn’t accept me, couldn’t accept the fact that I was… different. I had to go.”

He looks up then and stares directly into her eyes. “I shouldn’t even be here. I tried to tell Dan that I don’t belong in places like this.” Simply said, as if he expects no argument.

She ignores the sight of Dan coming to stand silently in the doorway and keeps her eyes on Phil’s. “What do you mean, places like this?”

He shifts his feet and goes back to lacing the pie crust. “Nice places filled with good people. I’m not a good person,” he says sadly. “If you knew-”

She does know. Dan had sat her down shortly after they had arrived and explained a bit of Phil’s past. He had wanted her to understand why Phil was so withdrawn and traumatized. She had guessed at some of it; able to read between the lines of the letters Dan had sent to her, but she had still wept for the damaged young man hidden in the safety of the room she had prepared for him.

She lets her eyes flick over to Dan and he nods, giving her permission to take the conversation where it needs to go.

Karen takes a deep breath and rests her hand on Phil’s arm. “Phil, love… I _do_ know.”

The pastry falls from Phil’s suddenly nerveless hands as he jerks his head up. The fear in his eyes brings tears to hers as they stare at each across the unbaked pie between them. She lets her hand fall to his and grasps it tightly.

“How can you accept that so easily?” he asks on a wavering breath. “You know what I’ve done, know that I-I’ve been with others, that I’ve- that I’m not… clean.” His voice breaks on the word and his face crumples as he folds in on himself.

Karen pulls him to her and wraps her arms around him as the dam breaks. He rests his head on her shoulder as he cries, quiet sobs that make the tears in her own eyes spill over silently. She shakes her head at Dan when he moves, telling him without words that it will be ok. She can see that it hurts him to see Phil this way, his own tears bright in his eyes, but she also knows that Phil will poker up if Dan comes in, determined to keep his agony to himself.

She runs her hand through Phil’s hair and lets him cry it out. She hums a wordless tune as she rocks him slightly, giving him the comfort he so desperately craves. She gives him all the time he needs and when he sniffs and raises his head, she wipes the tears from his face tenderly.

“You listen to me now, Phil. You are _not_ dirty. You are not a bad person, unworthy of love and basic human kindness. Hush now” she says when his breath hitches. “What you are, love, is a survivor. And sometimes the act of surviving hurts.”

She pulls back to take his face in her hands and fixes the hair that’s fallen onto his forehead, giving him a gentle smile. “There will always be a place here for you in our home, for as long as you want to be here. There’s love here for you too, if you’ll let me in. And I’d dearly like a chance to love you, Phil.”

He’s quiet for a moment then gives her a tentative hug back. “Thanks… mum.”

The words are soft and hesitant, but they ring in Karen’s ears like the loudest of shouts. She closes her eyes and lets the emotion flood her, warming her all the way through before stepping away to clear her throat.

“Right then,” she says briskly as she wipes her eyes. “We have a pie to bake, Phil. I see you lurking over there, Daniel. Come make yourself useful and make a fresh pot of tea.”

Phil gives her a tiny grin and picks up the pastry once more, finishing the top crust before bringing it to the oven and sliding it inside. They sit at the table sipping tea and talking quietly while they wait for the pie to bake, Phil resting his head against Dan’s shoulder as they sit pressed close to one another. It’s the most affectionate she’s seen Phil be in the time that he and Dan have been home and it makes her heart sing to see the carefully built walls around him come down, just a bit.

They’re eating fresh-baked apple pie in the back garden when the sun comes up, quiet and still over the little clapboard house. Karen watches the amber rays of light illuminate the sleepy faces of her boys and can’t help get a little emotional at the sight.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she says softly. “Welcome home, boys.”

And this time when Phil smiles at her, she sees acceptance in his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!
> 
> you can like and reblog [here](https://capriciouscrab.tumblr.com/post/189655074825/a-place-called-home-rating-t-word-count-27k)
> 
> come say hi!


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